


Survival of the Suicidal

by Cyane



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Short & Sweet, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has A Heart, why is insomniac tony stark not a tag excuse me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyane/pseuds/Cyane
Summary: Tony, running low on fumes, turns to alcohol. Steve rides it out with him, and turns out to be a really good listener. They're both surprised by this.





	Survival of the Suicidal

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the prompt, I've made a list and I will be going through them ASAP. Love you. --  
> Still unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own. Please point out any objective mistakes and subjective feedback! ~

Tony had locked himself in his workshop for three days before Steve found him. 

_Reluctantly._ Steve had lost the game, and the rest of the team had immediately gone against him, voting so he would have to go find Tony and make sure the resident engineer hadn't died from lack of food or sunlight. 

_They like seeing me suffer,_ Steve thought sullenly as he wandered around the lower levels. It wasn't any sort of secret that he and Tony were probably the least-acquainted of anyone on the team-- although nobody really seemed to like being around Tony, all that much. But Steve? Steve and Tony... they couldn't even agree to disagree. 

When Steve made it to Tony's floor, he was a bit taken aback. Tony had customized floors for each of them: archery range and hues of purple for Clint, reds and blacks and leathers for Natasha, along with several sparring rooms. Thor had red and gold velvet, deep blues and vibrant greens, screaming a faux sort of royalty that Thor had admitted looked very similar to Asgard. Bruce had Hulk-proof _everything_ , with surprisingly little green. Instead, the walls were calming shades of blue and there was a huge meditation room.

Steve hadn't been expecting them to be so... _personal._ He had gotten stiff the moment he saw his own floor, because- first of all- it was huge, and he certainly didn't need so much space to himself. And secondly, because the entire level had a distinct 40's vibe, with a radio, curtains, aged wood furniture-- it wasn't dusty, for sure, but it looked... homey. Sort of. 

And, honestly, it was sort of touching. If Steve hadn't already gotten the horrendous first impression of the billionaire, he might've actually thanked the man. As it had been, he had been too worried about the whole thing being a joke on him.

The one floor he had only just seen was Tony's. And it was... _not_ the same level of personal the rest of the team had. 

He had been expecting shimmering, glittery gold and red stripes, and bold, icy blue light fixtures. Metallic floors. 

Steve hesitated before walking inside, frowning as he looked around. There were simple, yet modern light fixtures. Desks, tables, and countertops everywhere, mostly cluttered with scraps of metal and God-knew-what. It was quite dim, with the window setting having been lowered to about 35%. 

"...Stark?" Steve called out, hesitating again. It felt wrong to be in there-- mainly because it _wasn't_ the hideous, shimmering spectacle Steve knew Tony Stark for. It was simple, and messy, and it felt more vulnerable than irritating. It felt far _more_ personal than anything else, because it felt real. 

It was really, just terrifying, the prospect.

Steve didn't want to consider the fact that maybe-- just _maybe_ , Tony Stark had a real human person, under all that glamour.

But there was no going back. If Steve returned to the communal floor without Tony, he knew he'd be met with unimpressed, disappointed looks. _Don't make this personal._ So Steve continued, stepping over boxes of tech and ducking under large metal structures. 

"Stark!"

There was a sort of noise, muffled-- a grunt? 

_What if he's hurt?_

"-Stark! _Tony_?"

Immediately Steve had kicked into action. He lunged around the mess and followed the sound, leading him into another room. Of course, the moment Steve saw the bar, and the stool Tony was slumped over in, he deflated with an annoyed huff. 

"Are you kidding me? Drinking, Stark? What if--"

Tony let out a little, breathless laugh from where he sat, head buried in his arms. There was half a bottle of scotch sitting next to him like a murder weapon. 

Steve rolled his eyes, mostly frustrated at his own concern, and came up to drag Tony back upstairs. "You haven't been out of here for three days, Tony. Three days. No food... have you even slept? We shouldn't have to worry about you like--"

"--no, you _shouldn't._ " Tony's voice was sharp and unyielding, although there was a note of wry amusement in the statement. "So don't. Hell, I'm working on upgrades for _you guys_ , so don't try to fucking blame me. I'm fine, go back to braiding each other's hair, won't you?"

"What the hell is your problem?" Steve snapped back, placing one hand on the bar top. "There's nothing wrong with trust within the team-- although I don't expect _you_ to understand that."

Tony swung up to face him, although he was swaying dangerously, even while folded over himself on a chair. "Ha- you got me. I _don't_ get that, capsicle. I don't understand- I can't possibly understand how you, of all people, would want me to come up with you and do some fucking cutesy trust exercises."

"The rest of the team..." Steve trailed off, after a moment. Because that wasn't true, was it?

Nobody had told Steve to go bring Tony upstairs to spend time with them.

After three days of not having any interactions with Tony whatsoever, they had decided it would be 'best' if they checked to see if he was still _breathing._ And nobody had even wanted to do that, so they'd had to compete. And the loser had to go make sure their pro-bono landlord, teammate, supplier, and consultant was still breathing after working on things for _them_.

Steve actually stepped back from the force of the realization.

No wonder Tony seemed reclusive. It wasn't like they'd been exactly welcoming back, although he certainly had. 

Steve rubbed his eyes with his other hand, feeling guilt chewing a hole through his stomach. _It sounds horrible when I think about it like that._

"Stark..."

Tony laughed again, bitterly.   
"Don't give me the pity-pick-me-upper. Don't need it. Just shut the door on your way out."

The soldier took a deep breath. There was absolutely no way he could leave Tony like that- not after realizing how coldly they'd all been acting towards him. "When was the last time you ate, Sta... Tony?"

"Hmmmph."

"Mr. Stark has been awake for approximately the last four days, and in that timeframe, has eaten about 10% what is required for basic--"

"JARVIS, mute."

Steve felt an aneurysm building in his head. "Four _days_? On that little food? Tony- my God, no wonder you aren't functioning!" He sat down next to Tony, concern flooding his eyes. _Is he sick? Any injuries apart from the obvious?_

Tony let out an overdramatic sigh and reached for the bottle of scotch. Steve frowned and grabbed it by the neck, firmly pulling it away from the already-intoxicated man. "No more alcohol, okay? Jesus, Stark."

"Shut the fuck up, Rogers. Seriously, don't pretend like you care."

"Pretend? Tony, I know we got off on the wrong foot. It's my fault, too, and I get that. But you're still a member of the team."

Tony's miserable expression tugged at Steve's heart. "I'm not, Rogers. I'm not an Avenger."

"Tony--"

"-I'm _not just saying that._ " Tony closed his eyes, breathing out. "Rogers, I'm not an Avenger in the literal sense. Let's be honest; I didn't pass any psych evaluation SHIELD gave me. I didn't pass Romanov's evaluation. I'm not more than a consultant. Fury never brought me into the group, officially. You know what I really was?"

Steve stayed silent, although his heart was pounding. Maybe it was just the fact that Tony was drunk, but they had never gotten this close to an actual, not-horrible conversation. In fact, Steve doubted Tony had opened up this much to anyone else on the team. 

So he stayed silent, and let Tony talk.

"I'm the backup plan, Rogers," Tony gritted out, his voice getting dangerously wet. "Fury brought me in because he had no other choice and he needed the tech and the money. Why else would he have brought me in? _Me_ , the guy who obviously can't play well with anyone else? The guy who is constantly in the public eye, and almost always not in a good way?"

"It doesn't matter," Steve said quietly. "Not now, anyway. Tony, you're here now. You're part of the team _now_ , that's what matters."

"Ha," Tony choked. Steve watched the genius's hands tremble wildly. "Wrong again, Rogers. I'm not supposed to be here. During New York? Fury didn't tap into the COMMS, he tapped into a private connection with me when he told me to get the nuke. Why do you think that was?"

Steve had an awful feeling that he already knew the answer.

" _I was supposed to die,_ " Tony said. "I was supposed to die the way I never lived-- I was supposed to die doing something good, for once in my goddamn life. Fury could've called Thor's COMM, since the guy can't actually die in space. But I get it. It's easier to have someone die a hero than keep living as someone that's going to mess up everything later on. But, apparently I can't even die correctly."

"Tony--"

"--I should've died, Rogers. I... dammit, I wanted to die. I thought that I'd finally be able to, if I was dying for something that mattered."

Steve honestly wasn't surprised Tony hadn't passed any psych evaluations. This wasn't the sort of thing that usually signified a healthy train of thought. 

"But no, I lived, because I always seem to. I'm still here, so they thought; 'why not use this as an opportunity? We've got a billionaire, now! How about we guilt him into thinking that he's part of the team so that he invites the rest of them into the tower and keeps rolling out money?' Because that's what this was, Rogers. I thought I could be a part of the team, but I'm starting to realize that I am _never_ going to be one of you. Maybe because it's not official, maybe because I don't play well with others..." Tony hesitated. 

"...Maybe because, honestly, I'm not a hero. Not like any of you. I don't have a super power. I'm just rich and I make weapons." At the word, he threw his head back and laughed. "I know you've read my official file, capsicle. I sell weapons, remember? I thought I'd be doing something good... but I'm still just the merchant of death."

Tony set his head back into his hands, and silence fell.

Steve sat back, overwhelmed by Tony's blatant candor. He hadn't had a clue that Fury had privately asked Tony to take the nuke, or that Tony wasn't 'officially' an Avenger. He hadn't known any of Tony's thoughts on the matter. 

"Stark--" Steve cut himself off, switching out of professionalism again. " _Tony_ , you're more than a wallet, you know. Yeah, you've got money, and that's helpful and all... but it's not why you're a part of the team. And you are. A part of the team, I mean."

Tony kept his eyes trained on the bottle. 

"You're smart. Really smart. Like, top five smartest people alive, I'd say. Top three, maybe... I don't really have any other genius to base you off of, since... you know. But- you're brilliant. And not only are you brilliant, you're also capable of creating incredible things. And not only that, but you... Tony, you're a good person."

"Ha." Tony sounded _dead_. 

Steve narrowed his eyes. "You are," He insisted, angrily. "The fact that you are always trying to do good? That makes you a good person."

"It doesn't matter what I _try_ to do," Tony retorted. "It matters what I actually accomplish, Rogers."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Tony. That's what makes us human."

Tony seemed to deflate at the last word, rubbing at his head. "Jesus fuck. I'm drunk..."

"Come on, then." Steve said, standing up. "You need to sleep it off, then you can eat in the morning... and you _will_ be eating in the morning, by the way. And... I'm sorry. For... not realizing."

"I don't see how you could've."

"I should've," Steve said. 

"Yeah, yeah. Apology accepted."

"...To your bed, then?" 

Tony hesitated, looking torn as Steve offered his hand out. 

"...Hey... uh, Cap? Can we start over? Look, I've got my own shit to sort out. But... I'm sick of this whole skirting-around-the-issue thing. I was an asshole, you realized I was an asshole; we got off at a bad time. So... redo?"

"Of course," Steve answered honestly. "I think we drew some... conclusions about each other. That weren't true, I mean." 

Tony gave a short nod, his eyes low from alcohol. Steve winced, hoping that Tony wouldn't regret this conversation when he was sober. It was one of the most productive, civilized conversations they'd had. 

Slowly, Tony reached out and took Steve's forearm, steadying himself. 

It was the first steps to trust. But Steve knew this didn't fix half of the issues. He would have to sort out whatever 'official' business it was with Fury, to get Tony's rank to an official Avenger. And he'd need to talk to Natasha about whatever 'evaluation' Tony had been blabbering about. And the team.

Steve felt his heart tighten as he led a practically unconscious Tony towards the nearest bedroom. At some point, he knew that the Avengers would become a sort of family for all of them. It was just the process, _getting to that point_ , that took the most effort. 

But he was willing to put in the effort.

**Author's Note:**

> like what the actual hell was that ending my god
> 
> I might do some offshoots of this fic with Steve talking to Fury/Natasha, more team-building one shots, etc. but I need to work on other requests first, probably... and schoolwork. So, you know. But, in the meantime, I've got plenty of other one shots and fics about Tony!Angst and teambuilding, so. You can check em out if you want.


End file.
